nude slips between the mattress and the sheet. With a leap is already above the shoes. Sneakers, small, loose. Check the time, it's late, must go back to work. Then, with a dip falling back on the bed a few inches from my face and whispers in his ear.
-you love me? -
-I love you .-
worst response I could not choose.
It is grim and jerked his head departs back. The wonder the falls silent, but his eyes began to complain. I'm going to offer you my apology when she leaves her cell phone ring tone and everything, apart from the jingle, it hangs. Seconds later, without taking his eyes from mine, Elisa finally extends his hand on the table and answer the phone. First, continuing to stare, then all of a sudden, it focuses on the call and leaves me free to think.
I know that the reason for my answer, I know it was an automatic response, by instinct. I'm working on an essay on the appearance of Christ at the Sea of \u200b\u200bGalilee and, according to the latest translation of the Gospel of John, the same question of anger, my response has been Peter. Elisa but will not be satisfied with that explanation, I'll find something better. Mah .. The call seems to go for long, I take this opportunity to get up, wearing boxer shorts on the floor and head to the netbook. A new message: my former professor welcomes the choice of the test. "It 's wonderful," says "that Jesus chose Simon Peter to pass on his ministry. It was not the first Pope Paul's essay, but Simon Peter the fisherman, the ignorant, the impetuous ...". It 's beautiful says, and will be right, but to me a little' thing that annoys. That I'm so calm, reflecting long before each word, which I am proud to be an intellectual, I can not but be troubled by the fact that the beloved disciple of Jesus was a peasant. Perhaps that is why I can not get this step of the gospel from the head. It will be a good idea of \u200b\u200bwhat your writing?
I have three other e-mail, mostly advertising, and two invitations on Facebook to evenings in the local Genoese. Fast gate of all, still annoyed, but I do not know what. I have to think of an explanation for Elisa. She is now head in the bathroom with the hand not occupied by the phone the temperature of the shower. E 'in a hurry. From the open door you see the place the phone and quickly get in the box already tarnished. Her face looks sad, she'll be thinking back to what I said. Sad for some word, afflicted to feel ... distant melancholy at the thought that we were only five years ago she and I and the whole world out there. Then there was my first book, success, two years of life when I was a celebrity because we have moved away slowly I was in love with my image as a writer. In love with my image as a writer: fine words. Perhaps true. The parties in the premises, write drunk three days with the blinds pulled down the houses because I was in the mood and did not want distractions, being able to write to prostitutes because I had to experience it. Those who do not think I've ever forgive me. Then the film school, two years, more love. My novels were constructed describing pictures, why not work with images? Wake up early, go to class, turn short, assembly, dubbing, transition effects ... I think that my whole life was turning around a digital camera from 500 €. Best purchase ever made, I thought. Then the religious conversion, a year ago, Israel. To compare the Gospel with the Koran and the Talmud and learn from all teachings. Living as Christians in the Holy Land, under the same sky that centuries before had seen him live like Jesus. Make my rabbi. I loved everything as we should have loved Peter. Then everything is finished. Jesus died with the humiliation of the cross, alone, renegade Peter and perhaps, once a great fisherman, think of those who did make it to him to lose so much time behind quell'innamoramento. And for me? I no longer want to go to Mass, I have not written an essay, two invitations on facebook and an angry girlfriend in the bathroom. I have not seen Jesus die on the cross between screams that I could not hear, but I saw him slowly dissolve in everyday life. The pocket-sized Gospel that I had bought I do not know what has happened to. Must be in a box next to those of my books still sell. Or in some folder on your hard disk in "post-production" and "material to be mounted." Or in the bathroom pissed. Remains of past life, I think, as Elisa exits bathroom wrapped in a towel with a twin of the one who dries your hair.
-short do not love me? -
-No, I loved you, but now I love you-
I pause to follow the journey of a drop from knee to foot, so as not to look at her face. And resume writing.
Capernaum in the years that had not had not changed one iota. The twenty feet that separated his house from the temple, through a thousand times a silly devotion and a thousand other times to shut themselves up walls between solid and secure in the hope of escape from sin that seemed to lurk around every corner. That time that the rabbi had ridiculed claimed to fear again. But how could he? E like Simon Peter could now reside around his bare table when he saw this fraternal banquet? Everything was the same, but everything had changed. On the beach there were still abandoned, the networks with which he earned a living. The wind had twisted, but he would be able to dissolve in half a day. Half day: plenty of time now that he had learned to measure it in hours and minutes. But what else could he do? The brackets had closed, the Messiah had died for men, impotent and a liar, and now no one would believe in him. "Even I" thought "even though I was warned, even I have denied him three times in a few minutes. His last miracle was the prediction of my weakness. What a finale! Now go back to fish. "It was now midday, if it wanted to take the night off had to start preparing everything. He tried to take leave from friends who had followed him, but John would not listen to reason: "We will also us, we will not let alone." "The remains of past life," he thought, seeing them unravel awkwardly with the nodes of the networks. Their presence annoyed him, how he could not close the brackets if they were raised by the balls. They called him Peter, but Simon was a fisherman. And Peter and Simon were two very different people, would soon be learned. Late at night, later than expected, cast their nets off and more several times without any fish they had caught. The dawn rose, the dawn of many years before when he was going back home empty-handed for a catch, as sometimes happened, a failure. "Throw the nets on the other side," he was told instead.
-Throw-networks on the other side but now felt it again.
-Throw-networks on the other side was again the voice of Jesus
She turned astonished eyes because they could be confirmed: it was him, the eyes of friends was much more a confirmation of what every way he could give.
After a few long moments, all those present were already activated to execute the order of rabbi, but the instinct was another. The instinct moved Peter thrown off the boat, run with the water to the city to that figure and scagliarvisi against with all the strength he had. Traitor! Liar! Weak! Useless! Pushed him causing him to fall to the ground, the blow softened by a few inches of water, more sketches than anything else. She had never thought to raise their hands against his rabbi, now had. And it was easy, beautiful, liberating, why not continue? He was ready to punch as soon as that little man had got up and certainly would have done if ...
-Peter, do you love me? -
these few words were enough, this difficult question, to appease the anger of a sudden disciple. The others behind, still on the boat, were now fishing, and perhaps had not even noticed the scene. The heart rate decreased to calm. Peter held out his hand to Jesus and helped him get up. I've certainly loved
, he thought, I loved you more than anything else, I loved you as I did not think you could love, but now ... what is left? ... A ghost that haunts me. If you decide to look only to the whole world, if only ... ... you could not do it. Remains of life.
-I love you, Lord-
They were both standing, facing each other, wet, Jesus embraced.
-Peter, do you love me? -
I did not know whom they live, I lived for you, but now? I do not dispute the will of God, but do not love you.
-I love you, Lord-
The two walked to the shore, followed by those fishermen who improvised at the first exit, had collected 153 fish. Another miracle without witnesses, another reason to get angry. They made a fire and ate all together one last time, cheerfully, as if the rabbi was alive and nothing had changed. Everyone was there except Peter, who, unseen, had been away from the firelight and was gone to prepare networks for the next day. Soon he was joined by Jesus
-I'm sorry, rabbi, I'm sorry I could not join the others, I regret not being able to celebrate your resurrection ... I ...-
-Peter, do you love? -
already-know-
"Then feed my sheep. Do not apologize for what is not depends on you, do not be sorry for what you are. What's left of me, protect it, but what is gone, let it go. Now you have to live in Capernaum .-
Peter heartened, though always a bit 'confused, and saluted the Lord joined others around the fire. Thomas smiled and winked at him Nathanael gave a final spit with a big fish. It was too charred, it was certainly lost in the fire dimenticandoselo chatter.
do not complain-to-See said the friend, you must already know that something has remained
- There's a message on the phone, you Elisa, I wonder if tonight I like to dine out. Happy smile and write: "Yeah you know."
Also because I got a great desire to fish.
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